Somebody That I Used To Know
by Batsy Rocks
Summary: [Injustice: Gods Among Us] "I loved you," Superman whispered, his warm breath hitting Bruce's skin and lips almost touching. "I loved you and you betrayed me." [Unrelated One-Shots]
1. Who We Used To Be (Gen)

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Injustice: Gods Among Us or any of its characters.

 **Chapter Summary:** He had been here that night too after the League took care of Arkham's inmates. Once they had been relocated Clark flew away without a word, but he was sure everyone knew where he was headed.

Clark had hovered outside the Manor back then, hearing Bruce's elaborated breathing and dry sobs mixed with Alfred's quiet weeping.

 **-Spoilers from the first year of Injustice. This is set after Injustice: Gods Among Us #17.**

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 **Title: Who We Used To Be.**

Superman hovered on the outskirts of the dark city, watching from afar the familiar silhouette of Wayne Manor high up on the hill. He didn't fly into the estate, not yet, even if he was almost sure Bruce already knew he was here.

He had been here that night too after the League took care of Arkham's inmates. Once they had been relocated Clark flew away without a word, but he was sure everyone knew where he was headed.

Clark had hovered outside the Manor back then, hearing Bruce's elaborated breathing and dry sobs mixed with Alfred's quiet weeping.

Look through the walls showed him a crude picture; Bruce had dropped to his knees just a few feet away from the plane, cowl pushed back and his son's dead body cradled gently in his arms as he murmured apologies into Dick's dark hair, the domino mask lying on the floor at his side.

With a lump in his throat, he flew away to search for Catwoman instead of flying into the cave and dropping to his knees at Bruce's side, telling him how sorry he was over and over.

Selina showed up at the Manor twenty minutes later, and he knew that because he had been there, watching. She arrived just seconds before he broke into the cave to stop Bruce from hurting himself further with the wooden post he had been hitting for a couple of minutes. Clark followed her every move. He heard her short talk with Alfred before she walked down to the cave.

The Kryptonian heard her call Bruce's name; watched as she pried him away from the bloody post and hugged him tightly as he crumbled to the ground. He flew away then, heading toward the Fortress and his parents.

Three days had passed since that dreadful night, and now Clark was back in Gotham. And he wasn't planning to stay outside this time.

He was surprised by the lack of alarms blaring as he flew over the Manor's grounds, and even more so when nothing stopped him from entering the cave.

"What are you doing here?" Batman growled without turning around, voice hoarse.

Clark landed softly, red boots touching down on the dusty ground of the cave. "I came to see you."

There was no answer from the man sitting in front of the bank of monitors, and Clark hadn't actually expected there to be. He crossed the distance that still separated them with slow but firm steps and came to a stop only a couple of feet away behind Bruce's chair, just like the last time he had been here.

He took a deep breath, hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"I'm very sorry about what happened to Dick," Clark winced a little. His voice was too loud in the silent cave. "I loved him too, you know that. I know-" He swallowed. "I know is not the same, but he was special for me too. He was special for everyone in the League." The corner of Clark's lips curled up briefly. The small, bittersweet smile was gone before it even formed.

"Is that all?"

Clark swallowed hard, watching only the back of Bruce's head covered by the cowl. The rasp of Bruce's voice was almost painful to hear. It lacked the power and deep cadence of Batman's usual growl. Instead, it was just a hollow and muted whisper.

He thought that after losing almost everything he loved he couldn't hurt more, but he had been wrong. So wrong.

He had watched Dick grown up from a mischievous, bright little boy, with his easy smiles and cartwheels into a fine young man, his kind spirit and bravery growing even stronger, just as his desire to help others. Clark had always thought of him as his little nephew and now, now his death added yet another layer to the pain he had been living with since he lost his family and his city.

Watch Bruce's raw pain made him want to reach out to him, to hug his friend and comfort him, but also receive the solace he so desperately needed.

He did none of that.

"No. No, it's not. I- The League is going to hold a memorial in Nightwing's honor. It will be held in the Watchtower. Just a private affair with only members of the League present. I thought maybe you would like to come."

Batman turned his head slightly to the side, letting the Kryptonian see his profile and catch a glimpse of the growth of stubble on his face. "I'm not part of the League."

"I know," Clark replied after a pause, and it pained him to admit it out loud. "But this is the least Dick deserves. I think you should be there."

Once again, there was no reply. Batman simply turned his head away and toward the monitors.

"It's tomorrow afternoon. Unless you'd like to suggest another time."

"I don't."

Clark looked down. He didn't need to hear Bruce say the words to know he wasn't planning to go. He knew him too well by now to hear the unspoken deny. A part of him had known this was the most likely response he was going to get with everything that was going on.

Diana's silent look before he left had told him the same.

He knew he was taking controversial decisions and acting harshly, and he even could _respect_ Bruce's decision not to take part in any of it, even if he could not understand it. Still, he had convinced himself that once Bruce saw the results; when he saw all the lives that had been saved and the conflicts that had been solved thanks to the actions of the League, he would realize that what they were doing was the right thing and Batman- _Bruce_ would go back to stand by his side. But now, after what happened to Dick he wasn't sure of anything anymore.

"Okay, I ..." Clark trailed off, looking back at Bruce.

The cowl was lead-lined, but he didn't need to see Bruce's face to know the other man had barely slept or eaten since he returned to the cave with his son's dead body in his arms. There was a tray of food on the desk, only the tall glass in it was empty. The smell of sweat and blood, as well as the facial hair, made it clear Bruce hadn't bothered to shower either.

He probably hadn't left the cave- maybe not even taken the suit off. The gloves he was wearing were intact, and a peek with his x-ray vision showed the injuries on his hands seemed to have been treated, at least.

Most of the monitors were showing news feeds, but there was a blank page in the main monitor with a blinking cursor.

"Damian is fine. He's in the Watchtower with the League." He hadn't planned to mention that, yet he couldn't stop himself from at least trying to offer some kind of comfort to Bruce somehow.

"I know."

"He- I talked with him. It was an accident. He didn't mean to-"

"I know."

It was in that second that Clark realized the full extent of the tragedy that happened that night in Arkham Asylum.

Even though there was no point of comparison in the reasons that led to both events, Bruce lost both of his sons that night. Or at least, Bruce thought he did. And no matter how bad he was at showing it, Clark had always known how much he loved and cared for each of them.

There was no reason for him to mention Damian had refused to return home even now. Bruce already knew that. If he thought, even for a second that they were holding Damian against his will, Bruce would be up in the Watchtower in no time and would have brought his son back home.

Because, when it came to feelings and personal matters, Bruce tended to react first and think later, and more often than not ruthlessly especially toward the people he loved. By now, he surely had gotten past the initial shock and grief and with a clearer head had started to think past Dick's death. Started to think about his other son; the son he pushed away, disregarding his sorrow and tearful apology. The same son he hadn't spared a second glance for as he walked away with Dick's body in his arms.

It was very likely it hadn't crossed Bruce's mind even for a second that Damian's refusal to return home could be fueled by honest _fear_ of being rejected by his father rather than being his choice.

If this were any other time, Clark would keep talking. He would voice that thought and more, and wouldn't stop talking until Bruce understood and acknowledged his mistake and agreed to at least try to fix it somehow. He had never been afraid of telling Bruce off when he was wrong, as it was proven by the legendary fights they had had during League meetings.

A voice in his head -a voice that sounded uncannily like Diana's- reminded him of the possible advantages of having a Bat among them, even if Damian was not the Bat he wanted. It wasn't that what stopped him, though.

The truth was, he was drained. Numb. He was tired. So tired of dealing with everything on his own to try to help his friend work through his own issues.

Bruce was going to have to manage on his own this time.

Feeling impossibly worse than when he arrived, Clark turned around without a word and set to leave the cave as silently as he arrived.

The sound of his name being called stopped him. He turned around, hiding his surprise when he saw Bruce was looking back at him, the cowl that had been covering his face gone. He really didn't look good.

"I'm sorry, Clark."

Clark gave him a wary look. Bruce had never been one to offer apologies so easily. He could admit to being wrong -begrudgingly- but receive an apology from him was almost impossible. Yet, he had gotten two in a matter of days.

"Why?"

Bruce was standing now, his usually sharp and piercing blue eyes now bloodshot and tired, but still alert as they met his own. "Because I didn't stop you from killing him."

His gaze hardened immediately. Only years of carefully crafted control stopped him releasing a shot of heat vision right where Bruce stood. "What are you talking about. I didn't need you to stop me."

"After what he did to Jason ..." Clark saw him swallow before continuing. "I was ready to kill him. I _wanted_ to kill him. And you were there to stop me."

Clark flinched as if the words were an accusation. "And I will regret it for the rest of my life," He stated solemnly. "How many people would still be alive if I hadn't stopped you then? Lois and- Lois and my son would be alive now. Metropolis and its people would still be here if I had let you do what should have been done so long ago!"

Bruce did not cower. He never had. "You shouldn't be. I'm grateful for what you did."

The Kryptonian stood before him just a second later, azure eye sparkling a dangerous crimson. "Shut up! Don't- don't say that. You can't!"

"I am," Bruce held Clark's gaze unblinkingly. "because you saved me from making the worst mistake of my life."

"How can you say that!? After what he did? After everything he did to tear you apart!" Bruce's calm was only making Clark angrier. "The Joker was a sick bastard and he deserved to die!"

"This was never about the Joker or what he deserved."

"You're defending him! I can't believe you're defending that monster! You're just as sick as he was!"

The last time he had been in the cave, he accused Bruce of loving the clown; of being in mourning because of him instead of the thousands of people that die in Metropolis that day. He hadn't meant it, of course. He had said it simply to get a reaction from Bruce. Now he wasn't so sure he had been wrong.

"I'm not defending him. He was a murderer and a psychopath, and he deserved to pay for his crimes-"

"Bullshit."

Bruce glared at him but said nothing. It was a rare thing to see him hesitate before speaking. "I'm-I'm relieved he's dead. He deserved to die." He stressed. "There was never any question about that for me."

As soon as the anger had come it was gone, leaving Clark confused as he looked at his friend. "Then why-"

"Because kill or not kill him was never about the Joker, but about me. About us. Did I want to kill him? Yes. Yes, I did. Many times. But I was afraid. Afraid of what I would become if I crossed that line. of what would happen after I did it."

"And you let your fear destroy Metropolis and my family," He growled.

"I'm deeply sorry about what he did. You know I am. And I fully accept my responsibility for it-"

"I don't care! That doesn't bring my family back!"

"I know." Bruce lowered his eyes.

Clark stood where he was, watching him. He wanted to leave and don't look back. He wanted to shake Bruce and don't stop until he saw things the way he did.

"When I started this- when I first put on the cowl I imposed myself one rule and one rule only. Not because I was afraid of killing- killing is easy. Too easy. I did it because I was afraid of what would happen after I crossed that line. What I would become." Hard blue eyes met his own. "If I allowed myself to take the power to choose over the life of just one person, there was nothing stopping me from justify killing again the next time someone else committed a crime."

"Then it's a good thing you don't have to worry about any of those maniacs anymore," Clark growled back.

"You're right, I don't," Bruce replied flatly. "Now I have to worry about people attacking or killing random muggers all around the city over a wallet or a watch. Or people beating up anyone who looks suspicious around their neighborhood using bats and pipes."

Clark tried to conceal his surprise and dread about what he was hearing, but the look on Bruce's face told him he failed.

He had been so busy dealing with international conflicts and other bigger issues to worry about minor crimes such as the ones Bruce was describing. No one in the League had mentioned anything like that either, but then again, they had been just as busy as he. And this was Gotham. Things always got worst here first and fast.

That was no excuse, though. He thought that taking away the insane criminals in Arkham would be a start to solve the city's problems, but clearly, he was wrong. They would need to keep a closer eye on Gotham.

"That's the way _justice_ looks now."

Clark narrowed his eyes. He could see clearly what Bruce was trying to do here, and he felt rage filling him once again.

Bruce was trying to manipulate him, just like he always did. Like he had done with Arthur before. Manipulate him to make him turn his back on what he was trying to accomplish by placing the blame on him for what was happening in Gotham. As if him killing that fucking clown had given people free rein to do the same with any other criminal.

It had been a mistake coming here, that was clear now, but he wasn't going to give Bruce what he wanted. Not anymore.

"I do not condone such acts, but perhaps they are for the best. Criminals have been preying on innocent people for too long because they know their victims can do nothing against them, and because they're rarely punished for his crimes. But maybe now that people are defending themselves criminals would think twice before acting."

Bruce was watching him as if he was seeing him for the first time, and he clearly didn't like what he saw. Good. That was good, but he wasn't done yet.

"Don't tell me you wouldn't have been happy if your parents had had a way to defend themselves that night."

Clark had expected Bruce's anger, but the ferocity of the glare he sent his way gave him pause. He had never seen him so angry before. So angry and ... hurt.

"Get out. Now."

Clark opened his mouth to say something but simply closed it again when nothing came out. Clark lifted from the floor, taking one last look at Bruce's face before flying away.

He won, and yet, he felt nothing as he exited the cave, leaving behind his best friend.

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 **a/n:** Was I the only one annoyed by the way they handled Dick's dead? I get that they had a bigger story to tell, and this was just a way to keep it moving. But really? Nightwing was supposed to be well liked among the League, and yet there's nothing but a few planes showing their reaction? And what about Clark? I understand that he's not the most stable person right then, and isn't the person he was before, but the boy he watched grow up is dead! His best friend's son is gone and he doesn't feel anything? I wasn't expecting him to call off the whole thing, but a little more emotion would have been nice.

At least he ensured Bruce would have someone at his side by reaching out to Selina. That was a nice touch, and it showed Clark wasn't totally gone then.

And well, in the end, him reaching out didn't work out anyway. Because both are too stubborn and Clark thinks everyone is out to get him. *sigh* I think I need to go write some fluff now after so much angst.


	2. Somebody That I Used To Know (MildSlash)

Yep, I had to take another stab at the Injustice!verse, making it a little more slashy this time but just as angsty. This isn't directly related to the previous one, but I decided it would be easier to put them in the same place. I hope you enjoy it!

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Injustice or any of its characters. Big surprise there.

 **Chapter Summary:** "I loved you," Superman whispered, his warm breath hitting Bruce's skin and lips almost touching. "I loved you and you _betrayed_ me."

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 **Title: Somebody That I Used To Know.**

Bruce regained consciousness gradually. He didn't open his eyes and was careful to remain motionless as he forced his foggy brain to focus enough to assess the situation.

The first thing he was aware of was the pain. He could barely remember a time when physical pain wasn't a constant he had to deal with, but it was that fact what helped him determinate it was nothing too serious. A mild concussion, a few broken bones, and some other minor injuries. But that was the least of his problems right now.

The muscles of his arms were pulled taut, supporting his weight as metal shackles bit into the skin of his wrists while his feet dangle a few inches above the ground. He didn't know how long he had been in that position, but his fingers were already numb from the lack of circulation.

Bruce couldn't remember exactly what happened, nor did he know where he was. It wasn't hard to guess the former, but the later was a different matter even after his vision cleared. He only knew he wasn't in the Watchtower or the Fortress.

The room was large and empty, with a thick layer of dust covering the floor and barely lit. It could be an abandoned warehouse or bodega anywhere in the world.

Only his cowl and belt were gone, he noted detachedly. It felt like a lifetime ago when protecting his identity had been one of his biggest concerns. Now, thanks to the man who had been his best friend it didn't matter anymore. Everybody knew the man behind the mask.

Bruce didn't bother trying to escape. Not yet. Superman may not be in the room, but he was close, he had to be, and an attempt to escape would get him nowhere. So he waited, and while he did, he closed his eyes and started to meditate. That should also help him deal with the nausea and the pain.

Superman entered the room exactly thirty-minutes later, red cape billowing softly behind him and feet hovering over the dusty floor.

Bruce forced himself not to react, keeping his eyes on the alien's face as he watched his lips twitch into a grotesque smile. There was not a single trace of Clark Kent in that hard expression.

"This has gone long enough, don't you think," Superman growled after a moment.

He remained silent.

"I think it's time we put an end to this tantrum of yours."

Bruce clenched his jaw. "This _fight_ will end as soon as you and the rest of your friends stop this madness and step down so the people can be free again."

Superman's arms were crossed across his chest, his expression blank. "They were your friends too, Bruce."

"They were until they become dictators and murderers."

Superman's face hardened a fraction, his word when he spoke mechanic. Rehearsed. "We're doing what needs to be done. We're making the world a better place. A world where little boys don't have to lose their parents at the hands of criminals."

Bruce could do nothing but glare at him for a moment, not trusting himself to speak. It shouldn't surprise him the Kryptonian was willing to use that against him. Nothing he did should surprise him anymore.

"And to do that you turned into criminals; killing and capturing anyone who dares to raise their voice against you. Even people you considered your friends."

"They wouldn't be fighting me if they were truly my friends," He said coldly.

"You're insane. You're punishing people for not thinking like you. People fighting to get their freedom back." He fixed him with a look. "What would Lois think if she-"

The left side of his face was burning less than a second later, the kryptonite stimulant the only thing preventing any new broken bones after Superman's backhand. He spat a mouthful of blood before painfully turning his head to look up at the Kryptonian.

"Shut. Up." Superman snarled mere inches from his face. "You don't get to speak her name."

"Does the truth hurt?"

Bruce fully expected another blow- was prepared for it even, but it didn't come. Instead, he witnessed Superman's ugly struggle for control, which ended only when he flew to the other end of the room and punched wall after wall until they were just debris at his feet.

"I'm doing this for them!" He snarled, flying back to where he was hanging. "I'm giving them the peace they have searched for centuries!"

"That argument stopped having any value when _you_ _killed_ the first innocent person."

"They were trying to stop me from saving this world," Superman said lowly. "They weren't innocent."

Bruce sucked in a breath, closing his eyes slowly.

He had known for a long time now that Superman wasn't the man he once knew, but it still hurt. It hurt because even if they overthrow Superman and his regimen, the man he had loved would _never_ come back. Clark Kent was gone, and he took with him any humanity the Kryptonian ever had.

"If you truly care about people being killed you should surrender. If you stop fighting me they will stop as well, I know they will, and when they do, we will be able to enjoy this new better world together."

Bruce regarded him for a moment. "If you want me to stop, you're going to have to kill me. That's the only way I will ever stop fighting."

There was a flicker of something in Superman's eyes, gone as quickly as it appeared before he slid a hand up Bruce's throat. He didn't press, just let his hand rest there almost like a caress. "That can be arranged."

"You should know even my death wouldn't be enough to stop the resistance," Bruce told him, expression calm and collected. "They will never stop fighting you."

Superman's wrapped his hand a little more firmly around his throat, eyes fixed on him. The Kryptonian brought his free hand to Bruce's face, stroking his cheek with such tenderness that it felt as if the limb belonged to someone else.

"I loved you," Superman whispered, his warm breath hitting Bruce's skin and lips almost touching. "I loved you and you _betrayed_ me."

Bruce closed his eyes, enjoying the contact even against his better judgment. When was the last time he felt Clark's gentle touch? It wasn't Clark, not really, but he could pretend just for a moment.

"I loved you too," He rasped, swallowing hard. "But you became one of the monsters we should have been chasing."

Superman's grip on his throat tightened before the last words left his mouth, his dark eyes meeting Bruce's wide ones as his air supply was cut, and he struggled uselessly against the iron grip.

The last thing Bruce saw before everything went dark was the glint of unshed tears pooling in familiar azure eyes.

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 **a/n:** No, Superman didn't kill him. I don't think either is capable of killing the other, hence the years of battle. They just love the each other too much to do it. And, speaking of love, Clark has always loved Bruce here, even while Lois was alive, but Bruce was Bruce and he loved Lois just as much, so he married her and lived happily ever after, until he didn't. In his head, he and Bruce should have been together after her dead, so difting apart only messed him even more.

English is not my native language, so any tips or corrections are welcome.


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